


When Billy Came Home

by comebackjessica



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy is Alive, Domestic Fluff, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, The Camaro - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebackjessica/pseuds/comebackjessica
Summary: Imagine just finishing your shift at the Hawkins Public Pool, when you catch your little sister and her dweeby friends trying to push your screaming father into the sauna. Obviously, you tell those shits to carry on. That's how it starts but then it ends with getting out of prison on parole and giving the officers Steve Harrington's address as your new permanent residence.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 18
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

Old habits die hard and so Billy had half expected Max to stand him up and make him walk all the way to Hawkins, or at least to the nearest Greyhound station.

She didn’t. 

As soon as the prison gate closed behind him, Billy spotted her impressive ginger mane. She waved to him and he waved back, then smiled and allowed himself a moment in the sun before turning towards the parking lot.

“You’re late,” Max said loudly but couldn’t quite cover up her grin. 

There she was, leaning on the Camaro with her arms crossed and eyes sparkling mischievously. It hit him immediately that she looked even taller than she did a month ago. 

“You’re early,” Billy replied, and before he got the chance to add anything else, Max threw herself at him with full force. He pretended to stumble and she clung to him tighter.

“Just don’t cry, alright?”

“Motherfucker, I’m not gonna cry,” she mumbled into his jacket and Billy laughed for the first time in weeks.

“There, there, little Max,” he tried to snigger but she gave him a powerful nudge in the side so he didn’t really dare to tease her any further.

“Get in before I make you hitchhike!” she huffed and opened the driver-side door. 

“No way. Give me the keys, dipshit.”

Max started the car and made a point of revving the engine. “What?” She gave him a shit-eating grin. “What? Can’t hear you! What are you saying?”

“Fuck’s sake…” Billy took the passenger’s seat and slammed the door behind him. Max turned the car around and hit the gas. 

“Seatbelt!” she singsonged at him as he was pressed into his seat and he gave her the finger. 

Before long they were on their way to the highway and yelling at each other about possible music choices. They finally settled on _Paradise City_ since Max had just bought the cassette and Billy hadn’t heard it. He loved it immediately. 

“Just so you know, I’m not giving you the car back,” Max said as they passed the _Now leaving Indianapolis_ sign.

“That so?” Billy was too busy looking out the window and savoring his newly regained freedom to really care about things like cars yet.

“You know I’ll be a senior next year, right? I need a ride.”

“To impress all your cheerleader friends?”

“Fuck you, I’m not a cheerleader!” Max laughed loudly and turned the music down to hear him better. “El was for a year, though. She was really good, too.”

“Why’d she quit then?”

“Uh, she didn’t really. Hopper made her.”

“Right.” 

Billy still had mixed feelings about Hawkins’ chief of police. He helped him out right after the trial since originally they wanted to put Billy in max and Hopper somehow convinced the judge not to. At the same time, Hopper’s testimony really didn’t help Billy’s defense and Billy suspected that Hopper still thought that prison would do the boy some good. Bunch of shit if you asked Billy. The same bunch of shit as Neil’s idea of “discipline”.

“Why did he make her quit?” He tilted his seat back and soaked in the morning sunshine. 

“There was this whole thing when El saved that girl after the pyramid almost collapsed…  
I think I told you about this the last time you called?”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, that was pretty awesome, actually. The game barely started and the girls did the pyramid but then I guess someone slipped or something and then the top girl fell down, I mean she just… It all just collapsed? It was fucked up! El saved her life. I mean, the girl still fell but you know. She didn’t die or anything.”

“Shit,” Billy murmured. “Everybody saw?”

“I don’t think they really believed in what they were seeing, y’ know? El was super quick, it was actually pretty mind-blowing!” Max shook her head and rhythmically tapped her fingers around the steering wheel. “Anyway, Hopper made her quit after that.”

“Still a parent of the year, I see,” Billy sniggered. 

“Oh, fuck off, Billy. You know there was nothing he could’ve done after they found Neil in that sauna.”

“What was left of him,” Billy smirked evilly. “But yeah. I know,” he added quietly.

After what went down at the mall, Neil was found dead in the sauna by the pool, his skull bashed in. The locker room was wrecked and the padlocked door smashed to pieces against the nearby wall. And Billy… Billy turned out to be the perfect suspect. Truth be told, it’s not like he necessarily wanted to _kill_ Neil himself, it was more like the FBI wanted him to admit it just so that they could close the investigation. And that aforementioned investigation was pretty fucking laughable. They didn’t get anything right, not one thing about that night and the giant hole in the brick sauna wall.

At first, Billy wasn’t going to intervene. He had just finished his shift, he was tired, he needed a cold shower and at least three cigarettes. But then he heard some noises and despite really not looking for anything, he had caught the kids doing something strange. Even though his first instinct had been to defend himself, he quickly realized they weren’t there for him. That’s when he saw Neil inside the sauna and took a step back. “Carry on,” he said then.

As soon as Neil had gotten out, though, and made his way towards the nearest kid, well _…_ Suddenly, Billy was eight years old again, it was all dark bruises and broken bones, and all that fucking Californian spirit. Billy pushed the girl aside, then grabbed his father by the arms and stepped between him and the girl but then, well… Then, she smashed Neil against the brick wall _with her mind_. What happened later changed his life forever. Literally, because he left some bloody shoe prints and his duffel bag at the “crime scene.” In the end, they had gotten to Billy on some stupid technicality. He got five years and was out after two.

“Jesus.” Max took a pack of Camels out her jacket pocket and tried to light one without taking her eyes off the road.

“D’ you _smoke_ now?!” Billy could barely contain himself when he saw that and Max yelped when he tore the lighter from her. “Is that _my_ zippo?! What the fuck!”

“Jesus Christ, Billy!” The car swayed a little but thankfully the road was pretty empty and Max quickly regained her course. “Give me that!” Max steered with one hand while trying to smack Billy with the other but he was faster. He took the cigarette out her mouth and lit it himself.

“It’s a filthy, filthy habit, Max,” he murmured and almost moaned when he took a long, dramatic drag. Max tried to get the cigarette back but he pushed her hand away and savored his moment. He missed this. Missed the good tobacco, his leather jacket, shoes that actually fit, and feeling like a person.

“No shit!” She took another cigarette out of the pack and this time managed to grab the lighter back from Billy. “Fuckin’ hypocrite, I swear to fuck.”

He just chuckled and blew the smoke out of his nose. They sat in companionable silence until side A ended and it was Billy’s time to choose the next cassette. 

“Your Black Sabbath’s in the glove box,” said Max, as if reading his mind.

Billy popped the compartment open and suddenly took a stroll down memory lane. 

“Jesus, Max, it’s like a shrine of my old stuff or something’,” he said quietly but then tried on his old sunglasses and immediately shot his sister a wolfish smile with his tongue between his teeth. Max beamed at him.

“So I was thinking,” Max cleared her throat, “since I don’t really think you’d want to stay with Susan… that maybe you could rent something and I could… stay over tonight? Like we talked?”

After the Mind Flayer left Neil’s body in the sauna and Neil collapsed, neither Max nor Billy was especially eager to check on him. One, they still had to find the other monsters and two… well, then there was two. The reason number two went something like this: the summer of ‘85 came and Billy found a job. Life was actually pretty sweet for a change, high school was behind him and once he saved up enough money so would be Hawkins. Things started going to shit again, though, when Susan suddenly decided to consult with her usually ignored step-son about his father’s supposed change of behavior. She said he was acting weird and aggressive. As far as Billy was concerned, that was Neil’s fucking default.

“Can’t.” Billy popped another cassette in the radio and pushed back the sunglasses.

“Oh. Cool. Yeah, I get it.” Even if Max was disappointed, she did her best to hide it. Billy felt the shift in her mood immediately and shook his head. After all, he’d known her since she was eight years old. There wasn’t much she could hide from him.

“It’s not like that, Max.”

“No, no. I get it. You don’t have to explain–”

“I had to give them a permanent address,” he interrupted, voice low and cautious. “It was one of the requirements for my parole. And I’ll have to find a job.”

“And you don’t have the time to be a babysitter anymore,” Max tried to smile. “I get it! Really.”

“Would you stop being so dramatic!” Billy sighed. “It’s not like that!”

“There’s that temper I missed.” She stuck her tongue at him and being the mature adult he did the same. 

“I don’t have a place of my own,” he said after a good minute. “I gave them Harrington’s address.”

_“STEVE’S?”_

“Jesus! Watch where you’re going, dipshit!”

The car swayed again but this time Max took a harsh left and pulled over. She took the keys out and studied her brother’s face as he avoided her gaze. 

“Steve’s address,” she said. “Steve Harrington’s address.”

“Yes, Steve Harrington’s! Jesus!” Billy ran a hand through his messy hair. “He offered.”

“He _OFFERED?”_

“He wrote to me in prison!”

“HE–”

“MAX, FOR FUCK’S SAKE! Stop repeating everything I’m saying!”

Truth be told, Billy had expected the yelling. What came as a surprise, though, was the sudden fit of giggles and a peace offering in the form of another cigarette.

“Fine,” Max decided after they had smoked and went back on the road. “I’ll drive you to your sleepover, then.”

“What did you just–”

“Jesus, calm down!” She laughed again and Billy put the sunglasses back on, pouting. “But you know he doesn’t live at that creepy mansion anymore, right?”

“I’m aware,” Billy barked. “And don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m using him for his money or something.”

“I never said you’re using him!”

“But you implied it!”

“I didn’t!” Max shook her head, suddenly serious. “Billy, I didn’t. I seriously didn’t. You got there all on your own. I just figured you wouldn’t want to stay with Susan.”

Max was never the family type but she stopped talking to her mother altogether after the trial, that is: after Susan pointed at Billy while on the stand and called him a monster and a murderer. Things were never the same after Billy went to prison. Max kept running away until Hopper finally convinced Susan to let Max stay with him and his daughter, “at least for a while.” Soon, the “little while” turned into six months and finally, Max never went back.

“Fucking _fine_ ,” Billy sighed. “Because I’m not,” he added after a pause. 

“Not what?”

“Using him! He offered. In the letter.”

“Fine!” she raised both hands and was immediately scolded for it. “You do realize I have a license, right?” She barked at him.

“Just fuck off, Max.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

She nudged him lightly and he immediately nudged her back.

“We’re switching seats at the next gas station,” he said adamantly.

“You wish!”

“It’s not a discussion, dipshit!”

“Fine! I’m not stopping for gas and you stay where you are.”

“Not what my baby says.” Billy pointed towards the dashboard and the gas meter. 

“Uh… First of all his name is David so fuck off.”

“You fuck off, you’re not naming my car!”

“Fuck YOU!”

Max tried to grab him with one hand while still looking at the road ahead and Billy kept pushing her away with the tiniest hint of a genuine smile on his face.

“Oh, come on! You missed me driving you around.”

“Billy. I will never let you drive me anywhere ever again.”

“What? That was ONE TIME!”

“And that’s enough!”

“We were being chased by mind flayed zombies, Max! And I didn’t hit _a puppy!_ It was a fucking DEMON FROM HELL!”

“Not the point! Now, the driver puts her music on and the shotgun shuts his trap,” Max announced with a smirk.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck YOU!”

Funny how that summer of ‘85 really did change everything. As soon as they went silent again, Billy’s mind went straight back to the monster hunting and, for some reason, Steve Harrington’s bat. Really, they made a mistake making that guy play basketball since he was clearly born for baseball. Steve could really take a swing at a demodog, that’s for sure.

The slightly crooked _Welcome to Hawkins_ sign was the one thing that finally made Billy straighten in his seat. He bumed another cigarette from Max and tried not to freak out. He wasn’t really sure how to act, now. Seeing all these people again will be profoundly weird, especially Hopper. Billy had strongly suspected that he was the one who had persuaded the judge to put Billy in a minimum-security facility, close enough for Max to visit. Hopper was also the one who wrote him the first letter, with an astounding amount of really useful pointers on how to keep your cool on the inside. They all wrote to him at some point: Max, Steve, Hopper, Eleven, and for some inexplicable reason, Joyce Byers. She even came to visit one time and asked him some insane questions like... is he eating enough and if they’re treating him well.

“I don’t think Steve’s home right now so I’ll just drop you off at my place, okay?” Max said as she signaled left and turned right.

“Her place” turned out to be an actual goddamn cabin in the woods. Two years still wasn’t long enough for these dark trees to stop giving Billy the creeps. He got out of the car first and, since he didn’t have any luggage, he went straight for the front door.

“Billy, wait.” Max was right behind him and now put her hand on his shoulder, suddenly unsure. “Just… don’t freak out, okay?”

“I can handle dead bodies in your fucking closet, Mad Max.” Billy grinned, all teeth, and pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked but that wasn’t the thing that shocked him. The giant, hand-painted banner screaming “Welcome home!” did. Billy turned back to his sister, not really knowing what to say. Thankfully, his face must have said it all.

“Surprise!” She closed the door behind them. “Eleven helped me hang it.”

Billy stepped into the room like a cat would into the unknown territory, still not taking his eyes off of the banner. 

“Holy shit,” he said quietly. 

“Oh, no. Don’t thank me yet. There’s gonna be a party later.”

“A party?” Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Mrs. Byers insisted on family dinner.” Max threw herself wearily into an armchair. “But no drinks for you!”

“Family dinner.” Billy chuckled at that. “Susan gonna join us?”

“I said, _family._ ”

“Max…”

“We talked about this already! Jesus, can’t we have one fucking conversation without mentioning my stupid mother?” Max kicked her boots off and sat back crossed-legged. “Besides… Steve’s gonna be there.” She grinned mischievously. “You know, your new landlord, Steve? Steve Harrington? Your new best friend, _Steve_?” Max batted her eyelashes, dragging out the middle “e”.

Billy gave her the finger and decided not to engage, for now. Apparently, there will be plenty of time to get humiliated by teenagers later.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay! Billy made me write more for this... this, whatever this is. I initially planned to only be two chapters but HERE IT IS. You can clearly see why there will be at least two more. I thoroughly enjoyed writing these two interact, ngl... Also, James Murphy is quite obviously based on D.B. Cooper from Prison Break

There was a guy on Billy’s block that was allowed to keep a cat as a pet. Apparently, there was some backward law that wasn’t changed in time to forbid this. The cat was a mean, long-fur calico mix and would hiss at just about anyone except the old guy that kept her. Coincidentally, after Billy’s first cellmate was taken to SHU, Billy was moved to that old guy’s cell. Safe to say, he was overjoyed at the prospect of sharing a cell with a cat. He still had the deep scar on his forearm from when he first tried to pet that mini lion. Eventually, he managed to bribe her with smuggled meatloaf, though, and it was smooth sailing from then on.

The old guy, James Murphy, was an ancient transfer from supermax and serving life with no parole. He was the one who later helped Billy write his own parole application. Apparently he knew exactly how. Murphy never said what exactly was he in for and Billy was smart enough not to ask. In the end, Billy learned from someone else that Murphy had lung cancer and his transfer was granted because he had to get chemo. Still, he obviously knew his way around criminal justice loopholes and so Billy decided to trust him. And also because Murphy hooked Billy up with the guy in block C who gave pretty decent tattoos. 

At Joyce Byers’ party, Billy caught himself thinking back to that mean calico girl and her owner. He hoped they were both okay, though deep inside he knew that was unlikely. He decided to sit down in the kitchen for a cigarette and was almost done with his first heavenly drag – that’s when something attacked him from behind. Billy jumped up and screamed as it hissed and scratched his cheek before scurrying down the hall.

“What the FUCK?!” he yelled in the general direction of no-one in particular as Jonathan ran past him, screaming: “Oh my God, PEANUT!”.

“That’s Steve’s cat. I mean was,” Max said, suddenly materializing beside Billy. 

“What the fuck…” Billy picked up a makeup mirror from the window sill and was suddenly too busy agonizing about his face to pay her any mind. “Does it need stitches?!”

“Jesus, you’re fine!” Max groaned at the same time as Joyce Byers stepped into the kitchen and gave out a little yelp.

“Oh my God!” She pushed Billy back into the kitchen chair and went to get gauzes, bandaids, and a tiny glass bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Max! What happened?!”

“Wasn’t me!” Max was visibly offended. “It was fucking Peanut!” 

“Language!” Two voices chastised her in unison. Apparently, that was the moment that otherwise very late Steve Harrington chose to announce his presence. “Oh. What happened to you?” He grinned at Billy, thoroughly amused.

“Your fucking _cat_ – ouch!”

“Sorry, sweetie…”

“Your CAT! He jumped at me and MANGLED my face! I swear to fuck, Harrington, two years of prison and I managed to come out in one piece, I take ONE STEP in Hawkins and– OW!”

“Sorry!” Joyce was visibly distressed but finally managed to dress the wound. “Okay, all done. It shouldn’t scar, honey, I promise.” She took Billy’s still burning cigarette from the ashtray and inhaled on it herself. “I think…”

Max looked at her brother and giggled while Steve, still leaning on the kitchen door like he fucking _belonged_ there, watched Billy reach back for the makeup mirror with obvious amusement. Once he noticed the hot color of the Johnson&Johnson bandaid on his cheek, Billy was ready to murder. 

“At least they’re the ones that glow in the dark!” Max piped up before running away through the busy living room as Billy chased her with a comical roar and hands stretched out like claws. 

“So he hasn’t changed,” Steve said quietly, watching from the kitchen as Billy threw Max over his shoulder and she squealed and giggled. 

“Only a little.” Joyce put the cigarette out and washed her hands before calling the guests in for some dessert. 

Later on, when Billy made damn sure no-one was watching, he found Peanut hiding under the bathtub. This time, however, he came prepared with some stolen ham and a blanket to cover his face. Thankfully, the orange beast took his humble offering and left Billy with no additional battle wounds. 

“Why is your cat living at Joyce’s?” Billy finally asked Steve as they smoked cigarettes at the porch and the guests were slowly disappearing back to their respective vehicles. The sun was setting and even Hopper stopped grumbling, now curled up next to Joyce on the porch swing and soaking up the orange afternoon sunlight. 

“Oh, he hates me,” Steve said casually. “I took him from Dustin after he refused to be Mews number four.” 

“That bad, huh?” Billy hummed and took a heavy drag of his cigarette. 

Steve pulled up his sleeve and showed him his forearm, peppered with long, shiny scratch scars. That, and a very nice collection of Sailor Jerry tattoos. 

“Damn, Harrington...” Billy carefully grazed his fingers over a colorful tiger. “That supposed to be Peanut?”

“Huh. Could be…” Steve looked at the tattoo as if seeing it for the first time. “I got it to spite Robin, to be honest. A month or so ago she got really into Chinese zodiac and told me I’m a horse. She never even told me a tiger was an option and I definitely don’t want to be a fuckin’ horse.”

Billy laughed loudly at that story and dropped his cigarette in the process. 

“Fuck, Harrington!” He chuckled still, seeing Steve’s stern expression. “What am I then? In the Chinese thing?”

“Dunno. We’d have to ask Robin.” Steve looked at his watch. “She’d love to meet you, actually, but she’s working right now and your curfew is soon, so–”

“Ah, Steve Harrington, the babysitter extraordinaire!” Billy stretched out his arms and grinned at Steve wolfishly, tongue between his teeth. 

“Don’t… don’t do that.” Steve threw his own cigarette butt away and stood up first. 

“Oh, come on! I mean it as a compliment.” Billy stood up, too, and went into the house to say goodbye to Joyce and Max, and the rest of the rugrats by proxy.

“Sure you do…” Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t really hide the smile. Whatever happens now, he hoped Billy wouldn’t lose that air of charm and humor that was so different from the aggressive teenage angst from before. It was as if Neil’s evil influence evaporated along with his spirit, and Steve would much rather it stayed like this.

“Of course! I’m looking forward to being taken care of and pampered!” Billy popped a chewing gum and offered Steve some.

“Oh, shut up...”

“I will never, now that I know you became the leading hairdresser in Hawkins! Tell me more, pretty boy.”

* * *

Steve had absolutely downplayed the size and standard of his apartment in the letters. While most apartments in Hawkins were small, dingy, and sticky, Steve’s was spacious, newly renovated, and, as Billy had already determined, cleaner than a lab rat’s ass. Billy didn’t really know that, but this new and overall gorgeous interior was the simultaneously fortunate and very unfortunate consequence of having obscenely rich parents that for two years now took the new tactic of just throwing their money and Steve and then fucking off to France or Italy for ten months of the year. No matter that Steve would have hated college and was actually happy fixing people’s hair – apparently until he becomes a lawyer, he’s not worth the time.

“You want a soda or something?” Steve asked from the kitchen, trying to play it cool as Billy inspected every nook and cranny of their soon-to-be-shared space. 

“You have TWO toilets?!”

“That’s a bidet. D’ you want the soda or not?”

“Your fucking bathtub GLOWS IN THE DARK!”

“These are LED lights, stop messing with my bathroom!”

“ _Our_ bathroom,” Billy corrected him when he finally came back to the kitchen, grinning like a lion who just slaughtered a lamb. 

“Jesus Christ…” Steve opened a coke and sat limply at the kitchen table. This was definitely going to be difficult.

“Yeah.” Billy turned the nearest chair around and sat on it backward. “Can’t believe I’m back here, man.”

“Rural Indiana or Hawkins in general?”

“Hawkins, man. Fuck…” Billy dragged a hand through his messy hair a little subconsciously. He knew the mullet was no more and he hardly even missed it. It’s the general haystack of frizzy curls that bothered him. 

“Here.” Steve opened a drawer and handed Billy a hair tie. Billy made a face but took it anyway. He put the hair up and made even more of a mess of it but at least it was out of his face. Well, most of it. Some of the looser strands still got out. It must have looked awful because he saw Harrington make a weird face. “Oh, fuck off! Let’s see if you come out of jail daisy-fresh, princess.”

“I was just thinking…” Steve cleared his throat. “I was thinking, you know. I could fix that for you, now that I know… shit.”

“ _Now that you know shit, huh?_ ” Billy grinned again, all canines, and couldn’t help but mock a little. “How come you never told me that in any of the letters?”

“I was embarrassed, to be honest.” Steve sat back down and took a sip of his coke. “The whole town already thinks I’m a queer, so.”

“Well, are you?” Billy raised an eyebrow and Steve just huffed at him. 

“Fuck you.”

“Not today, sweetie, I’m tired.” Billy leaned in closer and took real pleasure in how Steve’s cheeks got hot and pink. 

“Can’t believe you’re so cool about this shit, anyway…” Steve murmured under his breath. 

“Hey! You wash your asshole in front of fifty other guys every day for two years, and then come back and tell me how calm and unruffled you got, okay?”

“So you’re into guys now?”

“Fuck you!” Billy kicked him under the table like a preschooler and then took his coke away and downed it in one big gulp. 

“Hey! I just asked you if you wanted one!”

“I didn’t want any, then.” Billy gave him the empty bottle back, the brat that he was, and had the audacity to _actually wink_ at Steve before getting up and locking himself in the bathroom for what felt like an eternity but was probably an hour. 

Steve couldn’t help but think that this was awfully nice – this back and forth, this playful joking. It was kind of similar to what he and Robin had. Back in high school, before Billy knew about the Upside Down, that exchange would definitely end up in Steve’s face getting bashed in and Billy in a frenzy, that’s for sure. Steve was grateful that the calmer and collected Billy from the prison letters was also the now-Billy, here in person.

When Billy came out from the bathroom, he smelled like all Steve’s expensive soaps and shampoos, but also something _rough_ and _musky,_ something that must have just inherently been _Billy._

“Alright, pretty boy, where do I sleep?” Still with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips, Billy paraded around like he owned the place. 

“Actually, you take the couch. There’s only one bedroom and it’s mine.” Steve showed him the living room and the really comfortable-looking pull-out sofa. “Robin slept on it from time to time after parties, she said it’s really comfortable. I know you probably expected something more but–”

“Steve, it’s honestly great. Don’t sweat it.”

“I know, it’s not a room but it’s a place, I know we talked about this before and I offered but–”

“Steve, honestly! Hey.” Billy grabbed Steve’s arms with both hands and smiled at him, less feral than usual. “A concrete fucking floor would have been fine as well, okay? I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well… There are clean sheets there, in the storage. I can lend you some of my sweatpants if you want...”

 _Honestly!_ Why was he rambling so much? They already agreed on this _months_ before. Steve would help Billy out with the accommodation, and Billy would help with the books in the salon. Why was this suddenly so damn _difficult?_

“Yeah. I want.” Billy patted him awkwardly on the back. “Sleeping in the nude is not really my thing anymore.”

“I’m sure Hawkins would be scandalized.” Steve rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the promised clothes. “Hey, what if you belong here?” He said once he rummaged through his dresser and came back with crispy clean gray sweatpants that still smelled like detergent.

“On your couch?” Billy licked his lips and raised an eyebrow at him again.

“No, in Hawkins.”

“First of all, I’m on parole, princess.” Billy turned around and took his towel off. “ _I_ belong to the state.”

Billy would be lying if he said he didn’t flash his ass tattoo at Steve on purpose.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy doesn't like pineapple on pizza - he LOVES IT. Don't @ me.

Living with Billy was nothing like Steve expected. First of all, Billy was  _ neat.  _ And by “neat”, Steve meant the bastard folded all his socks and boxers in some sort of military-standard, color-coded squares lined up in the drawer like soldiers. Steve watched him fold his laundry one afternoon and Billy just smiled and shook his head when he spotted Steve’s incredulous look.

“Can I help you?” 

“You’re folding socks.”

Billy nodded and took a long drag of his cigarette. 

“That I am, Stevie.” He flashed Steve a 10/10 smile and returned his focus to the task at hand.

To Steve’s utter bewilderment, Billy also took it upon himself to de-clutter the space and then promptly clutter it with  _ other stuff _ :

“Stop making faces, Steve.”

“Not making faces…”

“It’s a fucking succulent, it’s not gonna bite your head off.”

“You sure about that? What if it’s one of them… the fly-eating ones?”

Now, Billy was the one who made a face. 

“It doesn’t eat flies. It barely needs anything, it pretty much gets offended if you water it at all.”

Steve wasn’t entirely convinced, especially since he was half-certain he would be the one who’d end up having to take care of them. Billy proved him wrong, however, and after their first month of living together, Steve found himself actually liking the new decor. Wasn’t exactly sure where Billy was getting all those random objects from… probably Joyce Byers had something to do with it, though. Steve could smell her gentle meddle a mile away, bless her.

He drew the line at posters, however. Not that watching Billy shirtless, handling a power drill was any issue, it’s the lease he was worried about. Steve wasn’t exactly honest with his landlord about the permanence of his roommate situation. The man would have probably charged double and there was only so much Steve could do with mixing hair dye all day or trimming split ends. He was no hairdresser to the stars. 

In all honesty, he liked having Billy around. Granted, the whole “teaming up with a bunch of teenagers to defeat Billy’s possessed bastard of a father” had bonded them enough, but now Steve got to experience a calmer, more collected Billy that was somehow old and new at the same time. Not to mention, this Billy actually  _ knew _ what all the tools from the box under the sink were for.

“Something wrong with the sink?” Steve asked, amused, when he came to the kitchen one morning and found Billy on his hands and knees, messing around with the pipes. 

“Not yet,” Billy said, his tone ridiculously solemn. He emerged from under there and washed his hands carefully. “I caught that leak in time. Lucky you decided to keep me.” He winked at Steve and grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl. Yes, they had a fruit bowl now. And a fridge stocked with  _ actual food, _ not just beer and pizza rolls. Steve wasn’t exactly sure how or when that happened, but it must have been sometime after the succulents.

Billy’s final form of a domestic goddess emerged one particularly hot Sunday evening. Steve came home exhausted and overheated after having done an endless number of blowouts. He wanted nothing more than a cold shower and a beer. To his utter bewilderment, there on his own couch he found Billy and a very familiar orange monstrosity, purring on his lap. Billy was reading one of his depressing books that Steve had difficulty getting the point of, and seemed entirely submerged in his own world. 

“Billy…” Steve said carefully, a hint of warning in his voice. “What is Peanut doing here?”

Billy raised his head from behind the book and flashed him one of the toothier smiles. He still wore his hair up in a bun and refused to look bad doing it; just enough curly strands escaped the hair tie to make it look entirely effortless.

“Joyce came around earlier. Apparently they’re taking a trip.”

“They?”

“Her and Jonathan. Looking at colleges, round two.”

“And Hopper?”

“Designated driver. Or father figure. You pick.” Billy scratched Peanut behind the ear carefully and to Steve’s surprise, the cat from Hell seemed actually content. 

Steve decided to take a shower first and ask questions later. Careful not to wet his hair, Steve sighed and let the cold water relieve the headache that was starting somewhere near his temples. When he came to the kitchen, Billy was there and Peanut was nowhere to be found. Steve was starting to wonder if he had maybe had a heatstroke and imagined the whole thing but then Billy promptly put a couple of bills on the table and slid them Steve’s way. That was something new to be anxious about...

“You already gave me rent money,” Steve said and took out a beer from the fridge. 

“I know. It’s from Joyce. Said we should order pizza.” 

Steve looked at the money and then at Billy. He felt guilty but at the same time a bit warm inside from having someone actually care if he ate dinner or not. Joyce had called him every Thursday since Billy moved in, and Steve was only now getting used to being a part of a family. 

“And you don’t want pizza?”

Billy shrugged. “Wanted to decide together.”

Truth is, Steve wasn’t entirely sure why Billy was getting all sheepish all of a sudden, but he grabbed the phone and put their usual order in for half pineapple and ham, half pepperoni. They ate in friendly silence in front of the tv, watching reruns of Miami Vice. Billy seemed to have a radar for when Steve was actually in the mood for talking, and Steve was grateful for it.

Besides having his apartment redecorated and the surprise pet situation, after a couple of months Steve realized he really liked having Billy around and he didn’t want him to move out after the parole was over. The current rules of Billy’s parole were acting to his advantage but sometimes, when Steve couldn’t sleep, he would imagine Billy moving out and made himself depressed on purpose. Steve was also ninety-nine percent certain the government had paid Billy a nice lump sum of hush money for having his father killed by a power-hungry, inter dimensional being — since that would make the whole moving out situation entirely possible for Billy, Steve dreaded it every time the subject of California would come up in their conversations. He was also pretty sure that Billy missed California more than he cared to admit out loud. 

Steve understood but still didn’t like being alone. Not even the idea of it. Never liked living alone, not when his parents would leave him to house-sitting duty, not before Billy had moved in. There were times when Steve would create lists in his head, lists of the things that might keep Billy in Indiana a little bit longer. Now that the matter of Peanut arose, Steve was determined to use that to his advantage. If Billy bonded with the cat enough, maybe he wouldn’t want to leave. And it did really seem like Billy was the only human that the orange demon tolerated. Steve tried to bond with the mini tiger as well and sometimes bribed it with treats, but all it got him was that now every time Peanut saw him, he would yodel in front of the kitchen cupboard where they stored his cat food.

Additionally, Steve never believed in higher power — and after experiencing what he had in the Upside Down, all he ended up really believing in were monsters. That’s why, at first, when Billy started sneezing and complaining about headaches, Steve didn’t react much. It was only two days later, when Billy couldn’t get up from the couch, that had Steve consider this a very selfish blessing in disguise. Unbeknownst to Billy, he called in sick from work on day three of Billy’s feverish coughing and decided to make soup:

“Oh, what the actual fuck…”

Steve let out a startled  _ yelp  _ and turned around from the pot he was furiously stirring, only to see Billy in his boxers and Iron Maiden t-shirt (barely) standing in the kitchen door. 

“Go back to bed!” Steve urged him, careful not to take his eyes from the simmering pot of random vegetables and chicken breasts stolen from Billy’s side of the fridge. 

“Not if you insist on torturing my chicken, Pretty Boy,” Billy said, sniffling loudly and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Get the fuck out! You’re sick!” Steve, wielding a wooden spoon, suddenly felt the surge of authority on soup. “Go back to bed!”

“And let you poison me with this abomination?” Billy sneered but it was obvious he was tired and in pain. Steve let out a pained sigh and turned off the burner under the pot. 

“Come on.” He took Billy by the arms and led him to his own unmade bed. Billy was surprisingly easy to get under the covers. “Stay here, yeah? It’s more comfortable than the couch. I’ll bring you something to eat, you idiot…”

Steve disappeared for a minute only to come back with a bowl of chicken soup with a generous serving of noodles. Billy tried his best to make faces but he finally succumbed to the ultimate goodness of homemade comfort food. Even if it lacked salt, it was still chicken noodle soup made just for him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he murmured as Steve sat beside him and tried to force a couple more spoons into Billy.

“Oh, I know. I have better things to do,” Steve said and scooted a little closer. “I could be retouching Mrs. Wheeler’s roots.”

“Ah, Mrs Wheeler…” Billy smiled with his tongue between his teeth and was met with Steve’s scornful expression. “What?”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Billy said as he slurped his soup.

“She’s a  _ mom! _ ” 

“Like you’ve never thought about this.”

“No!” Steve’s voice has become somewhat high-pitched and Billy looked at him as if trying to read Steve’s mind. 

“You can tell me, you know,” he said quietly and gave back the empty bowl.

“Tell you what?” Steve tried his best not to sound panicked.

“You know. Your shit or whatever.”

Steve let out a sigh and didn’t comment. He went back to the kitchen to do the dishes. Did Billy…  _ know _ ? Or was this just another game? Was he actually suggesting that he knew what Steve was,  _ who _ he was, or was this all a ruse to make fun of him once Steve admitted that YES, he has been pining for his hot ex-con roommate for a minute there. 

Billy must know on some level, Steve mused, elbows deep in hot soapy water. All that basketball grinding and very long showers after practice… Plus, Billy made no effort to cover himself while changing shirts or ever really demanded any amount of privacy from Steve. He always seemed just… just  _ right there,  _ and whenever Steve would search for any acknowledgement that there was indeed  _ something _ , Billy was there… looking. Grinning. Meeting Steve’s gaze without any qualm.

Steve got back to the bedroom when he realized there was nothing left to clean, only to be met with realization that he  _ had  _ just put Billy in his own bed. And that Billy was now lightly snoring on top of his pillows. Somehow, the idea of sleeping on the couch where Billy slept, in what now could only be considered  _ Billy’s _ sheets, seemed even more intimate than laying there next to him. 

So Steve called Robin. 

“You know what we need to do, right?” Robin said seriously once Steve finished reporting on his roommate situation half-whispering, half in strange code that made Robin call him a dingus way too many times.

“Please don’t say—”

_ “Birth charts!” _

“Oh, my God…”

“Shut up. I’ll figure this out.” 

Steve heard Robin shuffle some papers around and then scribbling furiously in her astrology notebook.

“Okay, we already know you’re an Aries and he’s a Scorpio—”

“What about the Fire Horse… thing?”

“That’s different, they have different compatibility ratios. Anyway, you already know what I told you last time — Aries and Scorpio relationship is generally a mix between an X-rated movie, huge drama, and… well, he will drive you crazy.”

“Already done.” Steve sighed and pressed his back against the kitchen counter. 

“Right, we already know he’s mysterious and intuitive—”

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Steve grumbled.

“Uh-huh. Try cheating on a Scorpio. He’ll  _ know. _ ” Robin snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Trust me.”

This made Steve remember one time about a month ago when he came back home late after a spontaneous (and god awful) date. For the rest of the week Billy took extra shifts at work just to avoid him and wouldn’t talk to him like he used to for even longer than that.

“Okay, dingus — listen. He’s impulsive, crazy, and frankly I don’t know how you put up with him but trust me, he’s a keeper. I mean, specifically for you. Please don’t send him out in the world to find anyone else, he’ll chew them up and spit them out.”

“Hey, he’s not like that!” Steve’s sudden defense made them both pause, though Robin’s triumph was tangible even through the phone. “Fuck me… What do I do?”

“Well… At this point, please just sleep with him. For our sake.”

Steve felt a pang of anxiety, even fear. “I’ve been talking about him that much, huh?”

“Steve, no…” She switched to a softer tone. “I want you to be happy. For real. And I know he likes you, too.  _ A lot. _ ”

“How do you know?!” Steve’s anxiety grew, this time because he feared his crush was showing.

“Steve,” she sighed. “I see how he looks at you. And decorates the apartment. And he even brought your awful cat back from the Byers’ because he had this crazy idea of making you feel accomplished if you bonded over Peanut or some other gay shit, fuck me if I get his logic.”

“He what?! He told you all that?”

“Not in so many words but I pick up on things!” Steve admitted quietly that she did. “And trust me, he won’t reject you. I know you think that everyone will leave one day and abandon you, but we won’t, okay? And he won’t.” This wasn’t the first time that Robin tried pleading with Steve’s stubborn head but it was the first time she was actually winning.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good man,” she chuckled. “Go tell him. I have to go, I start my shift in an hour.”

“Go.” Steve smiled into the receiver. “I’ll tell you all about my humiliation later.”

“What humiliation?” 

Billy’s voice behind his back made Steve slam the phone against the cradle. “FUCK!”

That only made Billy chuckle and come closer. “I came for more soup but I see there’s gossip.” He sniffled loudly but that didn’t stop Steve from swooning a little bit. “So. Spill.”

“Uh… here.” Steve handed him the freshly washed bowl. “Soup’s on the stove.” He moved towards the fridge to get himself a beer but Billy grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Why do you keep running away from me?”

The bluntness of the question made Steve’s stomach turn. He hated confrontations.

“I’m—”

“Don’t lie. I know you are. You’ve been acting stranger than usual. And I know you want me out soon…”

“What?! No!”

“Let me finish.” Billy cleared his throat and put the bowl back on the dish rack. “I was going to look for apartments but I got sick, okay? As soon as I’m better—”

“No,” Steve growled, a little too aggressively for his usual tone. “First of all, nobody’s kicking you out. Second of all, you gave this place as your permanent residence to your parole officer. You’ll get in trouble if you move. So stay.”

That made Billy pause for a minute.

“Right, no real way of getting through to you in subtleties so I’ll just say it,” he said quietly. “I’m in love with you, Steve.”

Steve felt a surge of panic go through his body, followed by pure bliss that he hadn’t felt in a long time — if ever. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights, however, since Billy’s speech took a really mournful tone:

“So I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the month… I understand if you’d like me to go immediately—”

Steve leaned in and kissed him before Billy could finish whatever self-depreciating nonsense he had managed to cook up in that head of his. 

The kiss was clumsy and full of teeth and uncoordinated lips but once Steve placed his hands on the sides of Billy’s face and Billy wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, they both found the right rhythm. Billy deepened the kiss hungrily and Steve obliged, letting Billy push him against the kitchen counter. It took them both a minute to realize what was really happening and they both pulled away for different reasons. 

“I love you.”

“I’ll get you sick.”

They looked at each other after announcing that in unison and both smiled almost at the same time. 

“I don’t care,” Steve shook his head and wrapped his hands around Billy’s neck, pulling him closer. 

“Well, I do.” Billy smiled but let himself be pulled. “Who’s going to feed our cat?”

_ “Our cat?” _

“Our cat,” Billy repeated into Steve’s mouth and kissed him again, this time slower. “We’re two old queens with a cat and a bunch of houseplants.”

“Shut up.” It was difficult to kiss now since Steve couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Or what?”

“Or Robin will somehow hear you all the way in the video store and won’t stop saying how she was right all along.”

“She probably was, though.”

Steve gave him _a_ _look._

“Whatever she told you on the phone worked.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“Just a little bit.” Billy rubbed his nose against Steve’s. “Something about scorpions and talking about me a lot.” He gave Steve a toothy grin. “Am I close?”

“Asshole,” Steve smiled and shoved him lightly towards the door. “Go back to bed already! I’ll bring you more soup.”

“I didn’t really want more soup,” Billy admitted softly.

“No?” Suddenly, Steve felt really self-conscious about his cooking. “Tea, then.”

Billy shook his head. “I just wanted you to feed it to me again.”

That… that made everything a thousand times better. And more real. But mostly better.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy bit his lower lip. “So…”

“So just go lay down already!” Steve chuckled awkwardly and reached back for the bowl. “I’ll be right there.”


End file.
